


Snow

by Merixcil



Series: Advent Fics 2017 [11]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Peril, chase scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24605776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Bruce has to save The Joker from his most dangerous escape attempt yet
Relationships: Joker (DCU) & Bruce Wayne, Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: Advent Fics 2017 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767640
Comments: 4
Kudos: 16





	Snow

The ice in the harbour shudders beneath Bruce’s feet, thick enough to hold his weight after a month or more of freezing and refreezing but shattered into plates that try to tip him into the frigid waters below when he gets too close to their edges. Up ahead of him, a skeletal figure framed by the moonlight hops through the gathering snow, laughter all but lost in the wind.

“Joker!” Bruce barks. The clown doesn’t so much as turn to look at him, barrelling onward, conceivably just as far out to sea as he can get.

Sooner or later, the ice is going to come to a sharp end. And before that happens it will grow thin enough that it can’t support even Joker’s insubstantial weight. Bruce grits his teeth and starts off after him, having to move slow to be sure he doesn’t put too much pressure on the ice below him. Snow crunches under his boots, still coming down from a storm that started up days ago. It’s caked on so thick that he’s in danger of forgetting that he could easily lose his footing if he steps out of its path.

Not that getting out of the snow is an easy task. The harbour is white as far as the eye can see, giving way to waves circling up around Arkham Island though it’s impossible to say from his position where one ends and the other begins.

The Joker isn’t heading for Arkham, of course. He’s pushing forward between two buoys frozen into the ice, on towards the mainland. The bright orange of his asylum issued jumpsuit does nothing to help him stand out under the dense yellow of the snowstorm skies circling overhead. Soon his figure will be lost to the night, impossible to pick out against an insubstantial horizon.

A wave of panic washes over Bruce, the last thing he wants is for Joker to fall through the ice and drown in Gotham bay. He’s really starting to regret sending Tim off to the East End to handle a mid-scale gun shipment tracking through the city, he could use someone in the Batwing right about now. He sorely wishes that Joker would veer off North towards Uptown, a bracing physical fight sounds like just what they need.

Maybe he hears the ice crack, most likely it’s his imagination. All Bruce knows for sure is that in the space of time it takes him to blink, the support goes out from under Joker’s feet and with an uncomfortably clean shriek of laughter he goes plummeting into the ocean. Without thinking, Bruce puts on a burst of speed, desperately trying to keep his eyes trained on the spot where he last saw the clown. The ice bucks and groans under his weight, pieces swaying violently enough that he almost loses his balance.

When he steps onto a new sheet of ice and for the first time feels the telltale rumble of fractures that will inevitably lead to his own fall into the water, Bruce stops. He can barely swim in the suit on a good day, he’s not about to test his limits with a plunge into sub zero waters. Changing tactic, he reaches for the grapple and hopes that Joker isn’t too far gone to know what the hook means when it loops over the edge of the hole in the ice up ahead.

He waits and he waits. Bruce waits for what feels like hours but can’t be more than a few seconds if the basic facts on how long a person can survive in water this cold are to be believed. He has to remind himself that this is all happening very fast, time is absolutely of the essence.

The sharp tug of a body attaching itself to the end of the hook is all he needs. Bruce hits the recall button on the grapple and relief washes over him when a very wet and bedraggled Joker appears through the hole in the ice. The clown doesn’t struggle or try to run, which is rather worrying considering what Bruce has seen him survive. He lets himself be dragged to Bruce’s feet.

It’s far too easy to let his blood cool now he knows that they’re both more or less in the clear. If it were anyone else Bruce might bother to be worried for their safety a while longer but he’s convinced at this stage that as long as Joker’s still alive, he’s salvageable.

Bruce leans down to disentangle the line from Joker’s hands. “Can you walk?”

Snow is already starting to settle on the clown’s hair, which Bruce can see is freeing into dark green icicles in the cold. He opens his mouth with a great jerking of his muscles and tries to speak but all that comes out is a repetitive, breathy gasp that sounds like his lungs are struggling not to succumb to frostbite.

“Don’t speak.” Bruce cautions him. It seems safe to say that Joker’s inability to form a proper sentence is good evidence that he’s not capable of anything else. Speech is always the last thing to go with this one.

Bruce releases the cape off the back of the batsuit and wraps it around Joker to keep him some kind of warm on the trip back to the land, which is going to be a whole lot harder now that he needs to account for both their weight. He hoists the clown up into his arms, opting for a bridal carry having rationalised that a fireman’s lift will send too much blood to Joker’s head when it needs to stay with his internal organs.

The cape soaks through almost instantly, with stinking seawater and the rapidly defrosting snow. Joker smiles ever so slightly, looking pleased with himself as he shuffles back into Bruce’s arms. For once, the fact that he’s preposterously tall might just work to Bruce’s advantage, serving as a balance pole as they cross the ice.

The snow seems to be coming down harder than ever as Bruce starts back towards the city, the only part of Gotham visible to him the lights of skyscrapers hoisted high above their heads. He tries to focus on shapes through the haze of white, the steady but not particularly inconvenient weight of Joker in his arms. One foot in front of the other till they hit dry land. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'advent fics' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have
> 
> Comments on the previous posting of this fic (just ask if you want me to remove yours) include:
> 
> >melody1987: Cape cuddles AND a bridal carry? Merry fucking Christmas, indeed!  
> >>Merixcil: It's not the donkey prompt, but sometimes things happen that are better than the donkey prompt
> 
> >JM: Oh my God!!!  
> >I will read the rest later but your Rosendale sweetest thing just warms my tired broken heart.. Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
> >>Merixcil: Thank you so much! (and no worries about commenting on the whole work page)


End file.
